


No Time Like the Present

by inahandbasket



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inahandbasket/pseuds/inahandbasket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack takes Ianto on a date that brings up feelings and fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Time Like the Present

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place somewhere in S2.

 

Ianto tightened his bowtie and tried to tug it straight, but it kept tilting down to the left. He tugged it up more fiercely this time, frustration getting the better of him. It was a little better. Jack said to wear a tux, so he was wearing a tux.

When Jack had first asked him out on a proper date, Ianto really didn't have high expectation, but the dinner and movie had been a great night. The dinner had been at a cozy Italian place that Ianto had been wanting to try for months. When Jack had announced what movie they were going to see, Ianto had not been optimistic. It lived down to expectations, but they had a lively discussion on their differing opinions on the state of film today. The best part of the evening had been the leisurely walk back to Ianto's that was the opportunity for this discussion. Eventually the conversation turned to more importnat topics. Jack alluded to his time away and seemed to be giving Ianto snippets of himself. Ianto soaked up every hint in order to add it to the ever expanding description of Jack Harkness.

So when Jack asked Ianto out for a second date, he immediately accepted. This time Jack didn't say where they were going, only that it required wearing a tuxedo.

A knock at the door put an end to Ianto trying to perfect his tie. He gave it one last tug and turned to answer the door. As expected, Jack was on the other side. He was also wearing a tux, and looking very un-Jack-like, yet smiling as always.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Jack said before Ianto could get a word out. Ianto was still trying to mentally get past Jack in his tux and was having trouble forming words.

“And hello to you. Have you always kept a tux stashed in that room of yours, or did you steal it just for me?” Ianto said with a grin.

“I've acquired a few things through the years,” said Jack as he stepped inside the doorway. “Sometimes they come in handy again.”  
  


“Well, then I guess I'm lucky it's not powder blue or has wide lapels.” It was a simple, yet shockingly fashionable black tux, fitted perfectly. “And where is it we are going that requires such sartorial smartness?”

“I guess I can tell you now. We are going to the opera.”

“The opera? I've never been,” said Ianto with a little concern.

“Well, do you like opera?” Jack raised his eyebrows.

“I honestly don't know,” replied Ianto.

“I've gotten us a box, but first will be dinner. I hope you like French food.” Jack took Ianto's hand and led him out of the flat. Jack held onto his hand all the way to the car. Ianto was both happy about the gesture from Jack, but also a little uncomfortable about the unusual display of affection in public. Jack had never been one to announce to others that Ianto was anything more than a friend. Ianto tried to remind himself not to over analyze and read too much into such a simple gesture. It likely didn't mean anything.

The dinner was delicious, but not very private. The tables were a little too close together and Ianto was loath to bring up any topic of conversation too personal or Torchwood related. Jack was unconcerned with the lack of privacy and told a number of anecdotes that would have seemed fantastical to anyone overhearing.

When they finally arrived at the opera house, it was too close to showtime to have a drink, and they went directly to their seats. They were in a box shared with only a couple other people. As they settled into their seats, Jack put his arm casually around Ianto's shoulders and gave a little tug. Ianto obligingly shifted his weight closer to Jack and leaned in a little. The opera was about a man whose wife had died and he kept a room of her possessions and portrait as a short of shrine. He meets a young woman who looks uncannily like his deceased wife and proceeds to court and seduce her. It all ends up rather badly with the young woman murdered when the man goes crazy. Ianto thought the ending was a bit of a cop out as it turns out that it was all a dream and the man has not killed the young woman after all. Still, it had enjoyable music, a very interesting orchestral score, and he couldn't stop glancing at Jack. Ianto was looking for a reaction or some sort of hint as to what Jack might be thinking about this story, because Ianto couldn't help but think of Jack in relation to the tragedy. How many times had Jack mourned the death of a loved one, and does he seek out people who look the same? Did Jack's choice of this particular opera mean anything? Ianto sat with his thoughts waiting for the end.

“So, what did you think?” Jack asked as the lights came up.

“I enjoyed it more than I thought I would,” Ianto admitted. “The story was more intimate, less grandiose, than I expected.”

“And the music?”

“I must confess, I think I preferred the orchestral parts more than the main voice parts,” replied Ianto. “But I really am not well versed in opera.”

“This one is a bit different. It's not performed very often. It's even unusual in that it's in Polish.”

“Well, I much appreciated the English translation projected above the stage,” said Ianto with a sheepish grin.

“Me, too. I never learned Polish, and even if you know the language, it can be hard to understand when it's sung.”

They finished walking to the carpark, all the while, Ianto was trying to think of the most opportune way to broach the subject he was most thinking about, if there was a message in Jack's choice of opera. He decided to just go with direct, yet innocent approach. “So if this opera isn't performed often, why did you choose this one. Is it one you'd been wanting to see for a while?”

“It just happens to be the one playing. There really isn't a lot of choice these days. You just have to go with what you can find.”

By now they were climbing into the car. Ianto persisted. “So what did you think of the performance? Did you like the story?”

“It was alright, but I didn't much care for the end where it all ended up being a dream. It seems to me that it took away from the heightened drama.”

Ianto still wasn't getting quite at the point he wanted. “But the story, of a lover who's passed away, is that....was that...what I mean is...was it hard to watch that...for you...especially...because of your past?” Ianto decided to cut his losses and finish the horrible sentence there.

Jack paused and looked over at Ianto, at least for as long as prudent whilst driving. He looked back at the road and Ianto kept his eyes on him. He looked as if he didn't want to answer. “I'm sorry. I didn't think. I should've paid attention to the plot before taking you there. You must have thought about Lisa.” Jack just stared ahead.

Certainly she had crossed his mind a couple of times during the show, but nothing too painful. “No, Jack, I wasn't implying that I was upset, I was just curious if...I just was wondering if you had ever ...never mind.”

Jack glanced back at Ianto a couple times. “Curious about what?”

Ianto sighed. “I was just wondering, since you've had such a long life and many partners through the years, do you try to find someone like the person that died, or do you look for someone very different?”

Jack hesitated again. Then he turned left suddenly.

“Jack, this isn't the way to my flat.”

“I know, it's the way to the Hub.”

“Why are we going to the Hub? My bed is much more comfortable and you have clothes at my place.”

“I know. There's something I want to show you,” said Jack.

When they arrived at the hub, Jack took Ianto by the hand and pulled him, walking quickly, toward his office. Once there, Jack dropped his hand and sat in his chair, opening his desk drawer. He took out a small, old fashioned, tin. “Come here, this is what I want to show you.”

Ianto stood next to Jack as he opened the tin, and inside were photographs. Mostly old, nothing since digital photography had come around. They seemed to start with tin types and proceed all the way to Kodak prints from what appeared to be the seventies based on dress. “What are all these?” Ianto asked.

Holding the tin in one hand, Jack pulled Ianto close with the other hand and tugged him down to sit in his lap. Ianto, unprepared for the action, thunked his back against Jack's chest. Jack and Ianto settled in the new position, Jack bringing his arms around Ianto so that he could manipulate the photos. “These are my memories,” said Jack. Some of the pictures were of Jack, but some of them were of other people with Jack. “These are the people that I try to remember through the years.”

Ianto took a sharp breath as he understood what Jack wasn't saying. “Are all these people who you've dated?”

“Only the ones that were serious. Some of them I married, though that was early on. I stopped marrying them after a time.”

Jack was passing each photo to Ianto as he slowly went through them. Jack continued, “Some of them didn't even know I was immortal and I had to leave them before it became obvious.”

Ianto was taken aback at this revelation. “But why wouldn't you just tell them, if they were so important to you. Wouldn't that be better than leaving them?”

Jack paused before answering. “Telling people doesn't always go so well. Even those you love can turn on you. In fact, most do.” Jack put him arm around Ianto's waist and held tight as if he was afraid to let him go. “Some even seemed fine with it at first, but would end up resenting me as I didn't age with them. It gets ugly in the end.”

Jack looked at the last few photos before letting Ianto hold them all. Ianto kept shuffling through them, looking like he was trying to memorize all the faces of Jack's past loves. “Did you love all of them?” Ianto asked quietly.

“Yes,” Jack said without hesitation. “That's why I want to remember them so much. Even though things never end badly, I want to remember the good times, the times when we were crazy in love and could do no wrong.”

“So is this like the room in the opera where the man kept the portrait and belonging of his dead wife, so you can remember those that you truly loved?”

“No, I don't keep these to cling to the past. It's more to remember what's possible. The bad times never stay and I'll always be able to love again.” Jack squeezed Ianto's waist more deliberately this time and he rested his chin on Ianto's shoulder.

“Do I remind you of any of them?” Ianto asked, again quietly.

“In looks, no, but my type is more a personality than looks. At some times you remind me very much of him.” Jack pulled out one of the photos from Ianto's hand. It looked about mid-century and the man was wearing a suit with a neat haircut. “He also worked at Torchwood and liked everything to be in order and done correctly. We always fought over him picking up after me. He wanted me to do it myself, and I insisted that it didn't need doing at all.” Jack chuckled a little.

“That sounds familiar,” Ianto said with a pert tone.

“Although, he never succeeded where you have worn me down. I change very slowly, but I do eventually get there.”

Ianto looked back at Jack and he had a small smile on his face as he gazed at the picture. “So,” Ianto started, “I remind you of this one?”

“Remind yes, but no two of you are the same.” Jack pulled Ianto around to sit sideways on his lap so he could look at him better. “I am not trying to relive a past pretending that you're someone else, and no one will be able to replace you... later.” Jack paused as he stumbled over the unsaid words reminding him of Ianto's mortality. “I'm showing you these because you need to understand that I've been alive for a long time and I've loved people in the past, but my love doesn't come easily. Look at how few they are compared to the number of years I've been on earth.” Jack wanted to go on, but felt suddenly shy. It was all getting too personal and too close to saying what he was truly feeling.

Ianto noticed the hesitance. “But, now...” Ianto prompted.

Jack put his hand at Ianto's cheek, keeping eye contact. “But now, I'm with you. I try not to think about it, especially with this job, but there will be a day when your picture will be in this box.” Jack's eyes were getting watery and he tried desperately to keep it together. “And then, I will want to remember you forever. I will want to remember all the idiosyncrasies that make you unique and perfect. You will never leave me. Just please try not to get mad at me when I don't grow old with you.” Jack ended with a smile.

Ianto leaned forward and kissed Jack hard, bringing his own hand up to Jack's jaw, his other hand still holding the photos. Jack kissed back, his tongue entering Ianto's mouth, nipping at lower lip. Ianto pulled back and looked at Jack. “I hope I'm lucky enough to grow old and be with you, but I have one condition. We don't tell people you're my son or anything like that. I'm a hot piece of octogenarian ass with his young lover.” Ianto smirked.

“Deal. I'm sure I can handle that.”

“But until then, why don't you handle this.” Ianto took Jack's hand and pressed it over his partial erection.

“I can definitely do that. Let's go to bed, hm?”

Ianto jumped off Jack's lap, setting the photos on the desk, and pulled him along by the hand towards the entrance to Jack's room. “No time like the present,” said Ianto.

 


End file.
